


6) It's the waiting that wounds

by Munnin



Series: Hugin Chronicles [6]
Category: Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: Tahl muses on his feelings for the present and fears for the future as the Red Mist squad come one step closer to finding him.





	6) It's the waiting that wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Based on characters created by Joe Hogan for the [ The Siren of Dathomir](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3z0kyf53Ds) and [ Panic Over Muunilinst ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I3-_EnhMEDE).
> 
> Stolen, run away with, and abused with his permission.

The first week was the hardest. No knowing what would happen next. Not being sure what they would do, when the time came. 

And for Rebec it was harder still. She’d been cleared by the medics, her dislocated ankle and fracture leg healed. But the memory of the riot plagued her. 

The moment she had fallen, was trampled under running feet. And had realised she was never going to get back up. If Tahl hadn’t found her, hadn’t pulled her up…

It dragged at her thoughts by day and filled her dreams at night. The _what-ifs_ and _could-have-beens_ woke her screaming in the night. 

They woke Tahl and Eva too. 

The first time, they had both come running, both armed. The encounter with the Republic trooper hung over them like a storm-cloud, unresolved and threatening. They hadn’t spoken to Rebec about it but Tahl and Eva both knew it wasn’t over. 

And so they had both taken to sleeping with a pistol at hand. 

Tahl hesitated, seeing Rebec thrash and cry out in her sleep, her hair fanned out like a halo of flame. 

Eva looked at him blankly. “Comfort her, you bantha!” She prompted, taking his blaster, and tucking it behind the nightstand. “It’s you she’s called out for.” 

He felt self-conscious under Eva’s gaze as he moved to the bed, gently hugging the slender woman to his chest. He didn’t often regret the loss of his voice; what was done was done. But he wanted to whisper to Rebec, to tell her it was going to be alright, that she was safe. Instead he held her, rocking her, stroking her back until the cries subsided.

It happened again the next night. And the night after. 

“Just stay with her.” Eva muttered, exasperated. “Look, I don’t know how you feel about intimacy or any of that. And frankly, I’m not sure I want to know. But with you, she sleeps. Better you share the bed with her. That way maybe all three of us might get some sleep.”

Behind the terse words, Tahl sensed a deep reservoir of worry and love. Eva wanted the best for them, all of them. Their parents’ death had pushed Eva into the role of mother too young and she had done her best to raise Rebec, encouraging Rebec’s wild artistic spirit but it had made her hard and practical. 

Tahl nodded and settled into the bed at Rebec’s side, handing Eva his pistol in the knowledge she’d put it somewhere he could reach if he had to. 

As Eva turned the lights back down and Rebec’s frantic whimpering subsided to deep sleep once more, Tahl lay awake, trying to work out how he felt.

He loved Eva and Rebec, in as much as he understood the concept. They had given him a home, a name, a reason to be. But more than that, they gave him the freedom to give himself meaning.

It had been a job at first, watching over Eva’s shop at night, moving heavy items and fixing things to earn his keep. But it had become more than that. The first time a customer had gotten too familiar with Rebec, he had stepped up. Not out of obligation, but out of a protectiveness he couldn’t name. 

Skin painting could be, by its very nature, a profoundly intimate act. It certainly was for Tahl every time Rebec painted him. And sometimes customers mistook that for something more. Rebec was use to that and knew how to defect and defuse things. But something a client got pushy. And when that happened, Tahl was more than happy to step in. Most of the time, his silent looming was enough but once or twice he’d had to pick someone up by the scruff of their neck (or equivalent depending on their species) and remind them what good manners looked like. 

It was mostly for show, the tough-man act. A role he played when needed. And somehow both Rebec and Eva had a way of letting him know they understood, that they didn’t expect him to be that man. Simply to wear that mask when needed. 

They didn’t define him, but let him define himself. Accepting him for who, not _what_ he was. 

And that was his greatest fear about the trooper he had seen on Malastare. That that encounter would force a definition on him that didn’t fit. Or that he didn’t like. 

He knew he must have been a clone trooper once. Before… whatever happened that lead him to be on that ship. The armour, his face. The way he’d reacted to being attacked on the ship. 

It scared him, how swiftly he’d reacted. How easily and dispassionately he’d disarmed and maimed. How little he’d felt on finding the pilot dead. 

And that was what scared him – that he could be a person who killed without feeling. 

He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be that person. 

And he was so afraid they would force him to, when they came. 

And that they would come in force. Killers in red and white armour. 

He didn’t want Eva and Rebec in the middle of that. As much because he didn’t want them to look at him and see a killer. 

When he had paid Rebec to paint the pattern of the armour on his skin, it was out of a desperate need to hold on to something, _anything_ that might link him to his past. 

But now, he feared that past. And more than that, he feared the future.

Rebec turned, muttering something in her sleep as she rubbed her cheek against his chest. He tucked the blankets around her, stroking her fiery hair and kissed her forehead, just as he had on the stadium roof. He loved her. As a brother, as a protector. 

There were other feelings. Feelings that related to the warmth of her lithe body pressed against his. But he wasn’t ready to understand or explore those feelings. They were… wild, dangerous. Too like the capacity for violence he felt lingering just under his skin. The feelings scared him, so he set them aside, burying them to examine at a later time. When the three of them were safe… 

If they were safe. 

He closed his eyes, resting his chin on the top of Rebec’s head and let himself rest. 

The future was coming for them. And there was nothing they could do but wait. 

***

“Captain, we’ve got a lead.” Linc called, fingers flying over the datapad as he sent the image to the projector. “Eva Rus. She’s an antiques and art procurer.” 

Ridley leant against the bulkhead, slicing bantha biltong with his belt knife. “She certainly matches the images we have.” He nodded, staring at the hologram.

“She’s listed as having rented a ship out of the Silvestri system.” Linc went on as the other gathered, Skate patched in as he piloted. 

Fordo studied the image. “Why was she on Malastare?” 

“Voras the Hutt.” Crispy put in, looking up from the nav-computer he was searching. “He’s an art collector, isn’t he?”

“That he is.” Linc nodded. “And pays well. It would make sense that a reputable dealer like Rus would have business with him.” He brought up a series of posts pulled from the cortex. “It looks like her sister; one Rebec Rus, is a skin painter. From what I’ve been able to find, she considered something of a rising star in the industry.”

“That explains the tattoos. Good work.” Fordo mused. “Skate, set a course for Silvestri system, let’s see what we can find.”

“Already set.” Skate’s voice called over the speakers as they entered hyperspace. 

Fordo dismissed the others to their work and took Crispy aside. “Are you ready for this?”

“Sir.” Crispy’s expression was hard and resolved. “Yes, sir.”


End file.
